


A Thorn by Any Other Name Would Prick as Painfully

by poison_peach



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Manipulation, Swearing, Violence, based on the animatic, listen i dont know how to tag things okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poison_peach/pseuds/poison_peach
Summary: All Roman ever wanted was to be respected. When his desires become manipulated and twisted, it's up to Virgil, Patton, and Logan to break Roman out of his spell and save Prince Thomas.That is, if they can get to him before it's too late.. . .[based on the video [Ready As I'll Ever Be]- Sanders Sides Animatic by thepastelpeach]





	1. Before the Storm

" ** _We are all comprised of good thoughts and bad thoughts._**  
**_We become heros and villains when we decide which thoughts to live by."_**  
  
**. . .**  
  
Roman was meant for greatness. He was sure of it. He was born to be more than a miller's son. He was meant to fight mighty wars and lead valiant men and accept roaring praise. He often dreamt up his own kingdoms, and played the part of the benevolent king. So when the opportunity to leave home and train as a knight arose, he was the first boy in the village to volunteer. He was only fourteen but he knew that this would kickstart his destiny.  
  
Virgil, however, saw his future as a haze of darkness. He'd run from home at ten years old when he discovered the power inside his veins, purple magic that crackled at his fingertips. He ran in fear of himself and what he was capable of. He was taken in briefly by a man with a silver-tongue and golden eyes, who taught him how to harness and control his powers. When he discovered how treacherous his teacher was, he ran once more. He happened upon his prince only by chance in the forest. He offered him a place in his palace, a chance to use his magic for good, and it gave his future a newfound hope.  
  
Logan's future was meticulously mapped out from an early age. Incredibly bright and lucky enough to be born of noble blood, it was only logical that he would see himself to be of some connection to the throne. He spent his childhood preparing for it, studying and working and writing until he could be completely confident in his abilities. At fifteen, he began training under the royal advisor, preparing for the day he would take over such rolls and assist his prince.  
  
The same destination could be found of Patton, though their paths there were vastly different. Patton was the son of a cook in the castle, and he often helped by cleaning or preparing vegetables and meats for cooking. He stood out, though, due to his incredible kindness and creative thinking. He left behind warmth and charity everywhere he wandered, and found just and fair solutions to the problems he encountered. The prince begged him to take an apprenticeship with the royal advisors at sixteen for his compassion and understanding. He accepted and he trained alongside Logan.  
  
Each path lead back to Prince Thomas. He had created his own family of misfits when he was young; a miller's son who yearned for more, a mage who wished to rewrite his future, a noble's son who worked hard for his place, and a boy with enough compassion for an entire kingdom. He gained his best traits from them: ambition, caution, wisdom, and empathy. Over the years, the five grew close. They were inseparable.  
  
They never could have predicted that one of their own would tear them apart.  
  
**. . .**  
  
A knock at the door stilled the laughter in the room. A voice came from the other side.  
  
"Prince Thomas? Pardon my interruption—"  
  
"Don't worry about it, Remy! Please, come in. What can I do for you?" Thomas exclaimed, watching as Remy proceeded to open the door and peer inside. His professional manner gave way almost immediately, and he leaned against the doorframe with a grin. He took in the sight before him; Roman, Virgil, Logan, and Patton all strewn about on various chairs and couches, with Thomas seated in the middle of them all.

"Sorry, I thought I was interrupting something important," he scoffed, crossing his arms. "Glad to see I was mistaken." 

Roman sputtered from the couch he was laying across, feet sitting neatly in Virgil's. He pointed a finger accusingly at Remy, giving him a serious look.  
  
" _Actually_ , you just interrupted a  _very_  important, _very_  privateconversation, thank you very much," Roman shot back with a huff and a glare.

Virgil made a face at the obnoxious man beside him, interjecting, "Uh, when was a debate on the best kind of pastry an important and private conversation?"

"Well, it's not private when you tell everybody about it!" Roman exclaimed, pouting. "Anyways, don't you have anywhere better to be than ruining our good time, Remy?"  
  
"That's _Sir_ Remy to you, punk, and I have important matters to discuss with Prince Thomas." Remy then pursed his lips and glanced around the room, adding a stressed, " _Alone_."  
  
Thomas furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why do we need to..." He trailed off, thinking.

"C'mon, Rem," Virgil started. "We've been so busy lately with all the preparations for the ceremony that this is the first time we've been able to get together."

The ceremony in question was in honor of Roman; Thomas was appointing him as Captain of the Guard. It was a massive honor, especially for someone who started as just the son of a miller. In fact, he would be the first in a long line of captains to not come from a noble lineage. The group, and most of the castle staff, had spent weeks working to make the ceremony perfect, and they'd finally taken a break to unwind. So much for that.

The mention of the ceremony seemed to click something into place in Thomas' mind, as he exclaimed, "Oh. Oh! Yes, absolutely Remy, you're right. Sorry kids, important stuff to discuss, go loiter somewhere else."

Despite groans of protest, the group prepared to go.

Patton was the first to pop up, unbothered by the interruption. He gave both Thomas and Remy a wave as he waited on Logan to stand and stretch, then grabbed his hand. He began to tug him out while picking up where their conversation had left off, something about the pros and cons of red velvet cake. Logan's cheeks dusted a soft pink at the action, but he didn't pull away. He gave Thomas a nod as he passed before Patton all but dragged him out.  
  
"It's just not fair, I was so comfortable," Roman grumbled quietly, smoothing his jacket. Virgil rolled his eyes in annoyance and began herding Roman towards the door.  
  
"I know, it's the end of the world. Your life is just hell, isn't it?" Virgil gave cooly, though Roman didn't seem to notice, muttering as he shuffled his way out. "Catch ya later, Thomas," he said before he grabbed the door and pulled it shut behind them.  
  
"Really, I don't see the big deal. We're all so close to Thomas that we might as well be a part of him!" Roman declared, throwing his arms into the air.

"The prince is allowed to have private matters," Virgil snorted, his eyes rolling, though his tone suggested he was amused by it all.  
  
Roman huffed at the other's delight in the situation. He crossed his arms indignantly as his lip jutted out in a pout. "You don't have to be a jerk about it, you... Jerky McJerkface."  
  
"Wow, good one, how old are you?"  
  
Roman's shoulder sagged as his entire face pulled into the pout, and his voice came out as more of a whine this time, "Now what are we going to do?"  
  
"Again, _how old are you_?" Roman only frowned in response. " _I_ am going to go to my room and practice working with my magic, so _you_ are going to have to find some other way to—"  
  
"Magic?" Roman exclaimed suddenly, eyes lighting up in excitement. His entire demeanor shifted into one of interest, his hands clasped together and pulled into his chest like a child's.  
  
Ever since the first time he'd seen the purple light that danced around Virgil's fingers, he'd been enthralled by magic. Even just listening to Virgil ramble on about his power was a treat, but watching him actually manipulate and control it was breathtaking. He jumped at every opportunity to watch, and this time would be no different.  
  
"I'll come with you! Please Virge, I'll be quiet, you won't even know I'm there!"  
  
Virgil narrowed his eyes as if thinking it over, but he knew there was no way he could say no to Roman. "Fine, I guess you can tag along," he grumbled. He didn't bother to wait for his taller counterpart before he turned on his heels and began walking.

Roman caught up to him easily and the pair walked quietly together. Roman hummed a soft tune, one the shorter of the two couldn't quite recognize, but he was too lost in thought to dwell on it.

Virgil couldn't help but smile to himself. Magic made him anxious, it made him feel corrupt and broken and _evil_ , and he'd had many nightmares over the years of losing control and wiping out the entire kingdom. Even so, it was different with Roman. He was so curious and interested by it all that Virgil almost felt okay about his power. Roman's excitement reminded him that his magic could be used for good, that it could be useful to Prince Thomas and to protecting his friends. It _had_ been useful for that very thing, whether against a fearsome troll or an unruly peasant.

The more faith Roman put into him, the more confidence Virgil put into himself that he could control his magic. He knew how to handle it, and he wouldn't lose control, and he would never harm those he loved with it.

Well,  _almost_ never.

**. . .**

" _Why_ _would you touch—_ "

"I don't know! It just looked so—"

" _How_ many times have I  _told you—_ "

"A lot, okay, but it really isn't—"

"You could have been  _seriously injured_ , oh my god, I could have  _killed—_ "

"Virgil, calm down, it's fine—"

"You're such an  _idiot_!!"

A tense silence fell over the two after Virgil's final cry, save for the sound of Virgil wrapping up Roman's hand and the occasional hiss of pain. Neither wanted to be the first to reignite the flame of the heated conversation.

He'd touched it, Virgil thought to himself as he tucked a bit of bandage. He'd touched it,  _god, why did he touch it_ , Virgil told Roman hundreds of times that his magic was unstable and that even now he had trouble controlling the flicker of light that danced around his hands and—

"Virgil."

—to  _look, don't touch_ but Roman never really was good at following directions and  _what if he'd killed him,—_

"Virgil."

 _—what would he tell the others, what would he do without Roman, oh god he wouldn't be able to_ ** _live with himself_** —

"Virge, _listen to me_."

Virgil blinked as he was pulled out of his thoughts. The world slowly came into focus.

The dark room around him with shelves of books and trinkets came first, then the bed they were sitting on that was barely big enough to fit them both. Then he focused on the leftover bits of bandage in his grasp. Then finally, Roman.

Roman was looking at him with his brows knit together, worry written clearly over his features. His hand, large and warm and comforting, was pressed against Virgil's cheek. His thumb was wiping tears away. Tears. He'd been crying. Damn.

"S-sorry, I..." Virgil trailed off. He felt like he had so much to apologize for and he didn't know where to begin.  _I'm sorry for crying, for yelling, for letting you come when I knew how curious you are, you just want to know and learn and I'm sorry I almost killed you, oh god I really almost—_

"Virge, it's okay," Roman replied softly, though his voice was insistent. "It's my fault, anyways. I know you said to be careful and and all but... I don't know, I just _had_  to touch, to try and feel it. It was almost calling my name." Virgil's only seemed to be more upset by that sentiment. So much for being comforting. "Anyways, see, I'm all better!" Roman tried again, holding up his bandaged hand. It once more did little to calm Virgil's nerves, clearly, so he quickly added," Besides, it's gonna take a lot more than a little zap to take me out."

"A  _little zap_? Oh my god Ro, I hate you so much," but Virgil's words now were light hearted and Roman could see the tension melt from Virgil's shoulders. "I don't know why I let you come with me. You're such an idiot."

"I'm  _your_ idiot," Roman hummed back in satisfaction, giving the other a wink.

Virgil's cheeks flushed red and he expired out a breath. He didn't know what to do with himself when Roman teased him like that. It made warmth bloom inside his chest and his heart began to pound so hard that he feared Roman would hear. He was suddenly aware of just how closely they'd been sitting and that the hand from his cheek had fallen to rest on his neck.

"Shut up, Ro," he muttered as he scrambled up and out of the bed, clearing his throat. "Anyways, we should take you to Patton, so he can look and make sure your hand is bandaged okay and all."

"Sure, yeah, let's go," Roman replied, a hint of a disappointment in his tone. Virgil wondered briefly if it was because he'd pulled away so quickly, but then Roman was pulling him along out door and the thought vanished from his mind.

They wandered off to find Patton, bickering and laughing as they went.

**. . .**

_In the forest just bordering the kingdom, a shadow waited. He was careful, he'd planned for everything, and this time, he would be ready. He **would** win._

_In a few days time,_

_the end would begin._


	2. All I Ever Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
> 
> He worked hard for his position, to be respected and honored and listened to. For all of that to be undermined by a few lousy nobles with their heads in their asses filled his body with a rage and a sadness he couldn't explain.

"Ro, you okay?"  
  
The question was quiet amidst the bouts of banter and laughter from the rest of the group; Patton and Thomas had teamed up against Logan about what wine was best for a celebration, giving Virgil a chance to ask the question without stirring concern. Roman hadn't truly realized he'd zoned out until the gentle question brought him back into reality, and hesitated before speaking.  
  
"Of course!" Roman confirmed, but his smile was too forced and cheery, and his tone resembled that of a man trying hard to convince himself everything was okay. "It's my big day, isn't it? New journeys and fantastic adventures and whatnot."  
  
"I heard the people in the square, Roman. We all did," came Virgil's quiet reply. Roman winced a bit, as if the words had burned him. He'd wished no one had heard them, that everyone else had been oblivious to the shouting, or at least that they'd forgotten by now. Virgil clearly hadn't. "If you want to... talk about it, I'm here, okay?"

That was Virgil, wasn't it? Always open, always his shoulder to cry on. He never pushed too hard, having dealt with his own issues enough to know that help was only useful when it was desired. But so much effort and time had been put into the day, Roman couldn't bear to seem ungrateful due to a few nasty words.  
  
Roman opened his mouth to protest but the words that erupted throughout the room weren't his own. "Roman, Virgil, quit sulking! Jeez, this is a time of celebration!" Thomas laughed, his words nothing but friendly and playful. "You can't skip out on your own party, my newly appointed Captain of the Guard."  
  
"I will say, I think the ceremony went rather well," Logan commented thoughtfully to no one in particular, swirling around a bit of the wine in his glass. "It looks like weeks of planning ahead did indeed pay off."  
  
"Me too!" Patton exclaimed quickly, eyes wide as if remembering the ceremony, even though it happened just hours ago. "Roman, you looked so official and fancy standing next to Thomas in your captain's uniform! Ooh, I've got chills just thinking about it!"  
  
"Oh! That reminds me! Virgil, where is..." Thomas trailed off, jerking his head toward Roman, who only looked around in confusion. "C'mon buddy, you know, the... _thing_ , for  _you know who_?"  
  
It took a moment of thought, but Virgil's eyes went wide with understanding. "Yeah, sorry, yeah, I'll go grab it." And with that, Virgil shot Roman a nervous look before he jumped up from the couch they'd been lounging on. He walked over to a chest piled high with papers and cloth and moved them as gracefully as he could—meaning he shoved them off with no regard to where they fell, receiving shouts of protest from Logan—before pushing the top open.  
  
"C'mon, Virge, grab it! I can barely stand the anticipation!" Patton urged excitedly, all but bouncing up and down beside a disgruntled Logan.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Virgil reached into the chest and pulled out a carefully wrapped package. He carried it with him as he shuffled back to the couch, shoving it at Roman before plopping back into his spot. "It's just like a gift from all of us or whatever," he muttered disinterestedly, though he watched intently as Roman turned it over in his hand.  
  
"You guys didn't have to—"  
  
"Nonsense," Logan scoffed, effectively cutting Roman off. "Today was a paramount achievement for you. As your friends, it would only make sense for us to gift you with something to mark this momentous day."  
  
"Go on, Roman, open it," Thomas encouraged, though his tone suggested more impatience than a friendly push. In fact, when Roman looked around, it seemed everyone was impatient for him to dig into the gift. Thomas was leaning toward Roman, clearly in anticipation. Patton shamelessly watched on with a ridiculous grin, tugging on Logan coat eagerly. Though seemingly annoyed, Logan too watched Roman with a quirked eyebrow.  
  
And Virgil. He tried hard to hide it, Roman could tell, but even he seemed anxiously waiting. His fingers played with the cuff of his shirt, his leg bouncing, and he watched Roman's hands from the corner of his eye.  
  
Roman laughed a little, warmth and happiness growing inside of him. "Alright, I'll open it, just everybody hold your horses."  
  
Logan, clearly confused and taken aback, turned to Patton and began, "What horses? We aren't currently near any—"  
  
"Shhh, Logan, just watch!" Patton urged quietly. Though it did nothing to explain what Roman meant, Logan took the hint and simply looked on with a soft grumble.  
  
There was a card tucked into the ribbon holding the wrapping together. Roman pulled it out and examined it; the intricate calligraphy gave away that it was clearly written by Patton. He read it to himself, a smile growing.  
  
_Congrats, kiddo!_  
  
_We are so proud of you and_  
_everything you've accomplished!_  
_We know you'll continue to do_  
_great things!_  
  
_We love you!_

Scrawled beneath the message was four names: _Patton_ , whose name was as clear and beautiful as the writing on the card; _Logan_ , whose handwriting was simple and bold; _Thomas_ , whose handwriting had been sculpted from a young age to be elegant and regal; and finally, _Virgil_ , whose name was messy and rushed.  
  
He set the card aside and began to open the package, taking note that it must have been wrapped by Logan. The paper was a blinding white, and the edges were impossibly crisp and sharp. It was tastefully tied together with a purple ribbon. Roman took his time unwrapping it all, because he knew Logan would appreciate the care and patience.  
  
Finally, his efforts paid off as he pulled the paper apart to reveal a blood red sash, folded neatly in the middle of the wrapping. He couldn't contain a quiet gasp as he touched it, smoothing a hand over it. It was _beautiful_ ; he could see that it was hand stitched, the hems intricate but subtle. The material felt absolutely divine, like the finest silk he'd ever had the honor of touching. It was made with him in mind, clearly, every detail pulling at his heartstrings. Looking at it left him in a scarlet daydream, and for a moment, his world consisted of the sash and the sash alone.  
  
"I sent for it to be made," Thomas spoke up, pulling Roman from his thoughts. When he looked up, the prince was wearing a wide grin, clearly proud and satisfied with himself. "It cost me a pretty penny too, so don't go roughin' it up too quickly," he joked. Roman chuckled, looking down once more at the sash in his grip.  
  
He could feel tears welling in his eyes. He couldn't be bothered to force them away. This, _all of this_ , it was for _him_. He had friends who loved him dearly, who were thoughtful and kind and who truly cared for him. He smiled at each of them, feeling a tear fall, then a second.  
  
"Thank you, truly. This all means so much to me. _You all_ mean so much to me," he remarked shakily, getting only a moment to scrub at his eyes before Patton perked up.  
  
"Oh, shoot, we forgot about Virgil!" Roman looked at the man in question, who appeared to try and sink into the couch. He pointedly avoided Roman's eyes, face flushing a deep red. "Thomas sent for it to be made, but Virgil was the one who designed it! Every little detail. It was so cute to watch him doodle away, I think he probably spent _at least_ a few days on every single part—"

" _Okay, thank you Patton, that's enough_ ," Virgil hurriedly spoke, embarrassment clear in his tone. "Yeah, I designed it, but it was whatever," he muttered, the toe of his boot tracing patterns on the ground.

Roman looked again and somehow had a newfound appreciation for the sash. Every stitch was planned by Virgil, every hem, every cut,  _everything_ designed truly for him and him alone. He could feel warmth bubble up to his cheeks as his heart did somersaults.

Virgil really did all this just for  _him_?

Before Roman could speak, Logan muttered, "Damn, it appears we're out of wine. I will retrieve more. If you'll excuse me," and with that, Logan stood and began towards the door.

Thomas stood and followed, snorting, "Not alone you aren't, since you obviously don't know what kind of wine to grab."  
  
Patton gave a huff and jumped up, shouting, "Lo, Thomas, wait for me!" before running off to join them. The sound of a door shutting echoed in the now silent room. Virgil and Roman sat in silence for a few moment before the latter scooted closer to the other.  
  
"Virge," Roman began, reaching his hand out to grip Virgil's shoulder. "Hey, I _really_ appreciate all the work you put into this. It means a lot to me." He smiled when the other glanced him, seeing a bit of his previous tension fade.  
  
"Yeah, well, I wanted... _We_  wanted to make sure your gift was special," Virgil muttered, though he didn't turn away from Roman this time. "We're proud of you and all that. You worked hard for this, no matter what anybody else says."  
  
Roman sighed at the implications of Virgil's words and closed his eyes for a moment. Memory of the ceremony seemed to appear in his mind as he recalled the incident.

**. . .**

_The ceremony was more of a big fancy announcement than anything, it seemed. Thomas stood from the balcony of his throne room, Patton and Logan standing on one side of him and Roman standing on the other. Virgil stood back, with the other knights and guards in attendance. It seemed that Thomas spoke for hours to the massive crowd below, his subjects silent as they listened on, but surely that was just Roman's nerves_

_Finally, after ages of talking about nobility and honor and hard work, Thomas announced Roman as his appointed Captain of the Guard. Thomas smiled at him like a father smiling at his son, overwhelming proud, and gripped his shoulder. He mouthed, "Congrats," to him as many of the villagers cheered and roared on. Roman returned the smile and turned with him to wave at the people below._  
  
_And then, his stomach dropped, and he felt cold panic run through his veins._

 _He could see them huddled in little groups below, dressed in their finest tunics, scowling up at him. Noblemen, surely, enraged that a lowly miller's son worked his way to taking a position previously only held by those of noble blood. They shouted up to him, and though the words were faint, he could make them out amidst the cheering._  
  
**_"Go back where you belong, you churl!"_**  
  
**_"I'll never serve under a miller's son, 'specially one who got too big for his britches!"_**  
  
**_"You bastards should just keep to your own kind!"_**  
  
_Roman was frozen by disappointment and distress before he glanced beside him, to see if the others had heard the protests. He could see that Thomas' smile was faltering, and Logan and Patton were whispering intensely to one another. Quickly, Thomas jumped in, silencing everyone. He gave a rather short and curt farewell before urging Roman back inside. When he passed Virgil, he noticed his jaw was tight and his knuckles were white, his hands balled into fists._  
  
_Thomas dismissed the few guards and knights that had stood behind him, leaving the five with some privacy to try and celebrate the event. As the day carried on, the incident seemed to slip from everyone else's mind, but Roman could find no way to push it from his thoughts._

**. . .**

Roman took a deep breath and opened his eyes.  
  
He worked hard for his position, to be respected and honored and listened to. For all of that to be undermined by a few lousy nobles with their heads in their asses filled his body with a rage and a sadness he couldn't explain. It coursed through his veins, and gripped him at his very core. He had more passion in his pinky finger than they all did combined, yet they thought it fair to sneer and laugh at him?  
  
But then Virgil quietly reached out to put his hand over Roman's, giving it a squeeze, and his soft smile was one of understanding, and Roman promised himself he would carry on past the comments. He clearly had so many people who cherished him and cared for him; he wouldn't let a few who scream ignorance get him down. He was proud, and he would continue to be proud. The rage, the sadnesa, the uncertainty, it all melted away into confidence.  
  
Roman wrapped his hand around Virgil's and gave it a squeeze in return, finally allowing himself to relax. "Thanks, Virge."  
  
"C'mon," Virgil stated, reaching out to gingerly take the sash from Roman's lap. "Let's get this on and see how it looks." He stood, and Roman followed after setting aside the paper it had been wrapped in. Virgil reached up onto his toes, scowling when Roman snorted and bent lower, but still pulled the sash on over his head and under an arm. Roman stood straight again, allowing Virgil to tug and smooth the sash for a few minutes until it sat just right over Roman's chest.  
  
Virgil took a small step back, as if admiring his work, and a large smile pulled over his features. Roman could feel his heart thud in his ears at that smile.   
  
"It's _perfect_ ," Virgil mumbled quietly, reaching out to trace his fingers over the fabric. Roman grabbed his hand again without thinking, but gently this time, and Virgil's eyes flickered up to meet Roman's.  
  
They shared a long look for a moment, as if they were both searching for something in the other's eyes, before they jumped and snatched their hands away at the sounds of Thomas' voice.  
  
"Get a room you two," he laughed, carrying a fresh bottle of wine, followed by Logan and Patton.   
  
"Oh, leave them alone," Patton defended kindly, taking his seat while giving Roman a look over. "Oh wow, that looks so good on you, Roman! You look like a real captain now! I'm so proud of you!"  
  
More compliments came from the others, and Roman felt his chest swelling with pride.

Though the vile words still lingered in the back of his mind, right now, he truly felt at home.  
  
**. . .**  
  
_A grin slid across his face, scales and skin cracking. He could taste the tension in the air, and it was sweet._  
  
_All the pieces were falling into place._  
  
_All he had to do was position himself,_  
  
_and **wait**._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! i was so excited about jumping into this story that i decided to write up another chapter.
> 
> also, i used the insult churl in the chapter, and i wanted to add this note that it is defined as "peasant-like, comes from the old english word ceorl, which literally meant a man one level above a slave".


	3. Clear and Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pardon, your majesty," the man drawled, voice thick and almost hypnotic. He dipped his head low in a bow, giving Roman a few moments to shake out of his shock and properly register the man's words. Majesty? Roman had occasionally been noted as striking a resemblance to Thomas, but he'd never actually been mistaken for the man.
> 
> "You must have me mistaken for Prince Thomas, good fellow. I am—"
> 
> "Sir Roman, Captain of the Guard is your present title," the man interrupted, bringing his head back up seemingly to look at Roman. His hood shifted slightly, revealing one eye, and Roman couldn't decide whether or not he was imagining a brief yellow glow from it. "I am not mistaken, you are deserving of the address I give, your majesty. Or rather, you will be."

_The forest was still, and so was he._

_He could hear the sound of twigs snapping in the distance._

**_Finally._ **

**. . .**

Thomas quickly decided that Roman's first official duty as Captain of the Guard should be simple patrols of the forest bordering the kingdom for a few days, and Patton and Logan wholeheartedly agreed. Thomas insisted that it was because everything was so calm now anyways that there was no need to patrol the village; Patton insisted that it would give Roman time to enjoy the fresh air before he had to take on more taxing duties; Logan insisted patrolling the forest was an important duty regardless because they needed a line of defense prepared in case of an attack. Despite their insistence, Roman knew better.

The temporary assignment was likely just to stall time, giving them all a few days more to deliberate and decide how to deal with those who questioned Roman's right to his position. The whisperings had only gotten worse, contempt for Roman slowly spreading throughout the village. It was a slow burn, a small growing flame, but each new mind turned to disdain was evident. Even just passing through to reach the forest, he'd seen more and more who looked at him warily. 

After really thinking it over, Roman realized how irrational it was to be truly angry over it all, but that didn't stop the sadness that weighed down his chest each morning. He'd given everything for this; shed blood, sweat, and tears to _make himself_ worthy of this; was he not entitled to a minimal amount of admiration? He was willing to give everything to serve the kingdom, taken up a position that would likely put his life on the line, and they still deemed him unfit?

It was unfair, but Roman eventually resigned himself to the fact it would just take time. Change was hard, especially when it came to mixing nobles and commoners, and Roman acknowledged that. Respect would come when he worked harder to prove himself, surely. It would be difficult, but staying above it all and using his grief to fuel his forgiveness and good deeds was all he could do... right?

As Roman's horse trotted into the forest for his fifth patrol, he shook himself out of his thoughts to focus. It was unusually quiet in the forest on this day compared to his previous patrols. Birds were not singing, squirrels were not scampering along the underbrush, even bugs seemed hidden away instead of buzzing about. In fact, Roman hadn't seen or heard a single living thing since he'd crossed into the cluster of trees edging the kingdom. The only sounds that could be heard were the twigs that snapped beneath his horse. How odd.

Still, he rode on, following a now familiar path towards the center of the forest.

That is, until the path became curiously _unfamiliar._

He'd taken this route for a few days now, he thought he remembered it quite well. The path before him now, though, seemed so much more sinister than before. When had the trees become so close and twisted, their roots gnarled and knotted into the dirt? The leaves seemed to intertwine together to form a barrier against the sky, leaving the path below dark and cool. And it had somehow become more quiet; even the leaves rustled in a mere whisper.

Roman urged his stead to stop, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He'd never gotten this feeling during his past patrols. Something wasn't right...

He didn't have long to dwell on it before a man suddenly stepped out onto the path in front of him. He wore a black cloak that draped over his entire body, a hood pulled over his head. It cast a shadow over most of his face, but Roman could just barely make out a grin pulled tight across the man's features.

"Pardon, _your_ _majesty_ ,"the man drawled, voice thick and almost hypnotic. He dipped his head low in a bow, giving Roman a few moments to shake out of his shock and properly register the man's words. Majesty? Roman had occasionally been noted as striking a resemblance to Thomas, but he'd never actually been mistaken for the man.

"You must have me mistaken for Prince Thomas, good fellow. I am—"

"Sir Roman, Captain of the Guard is your present title," the man interrupted, bringing his head back up seemingly to look at Roman. His hood shifted slightly, revealing one eye, and Roman couldn't decide whether or not he was imagining a brief yellow glow from it. "I am not mistaken, you are deserving of the address I give, your majesty. Or rather, you will be."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand your meaning," Roman replied deliberately, pulling his brows together in clear confusion. Confusion turned to slight agitation when the cloaked man snickered at him, and Roman clenched his jaw. "Speak plainly; what are you rambling on about?" he demanded, and his hand subconsciously drifted to grab the handle of his sword defensively.

The hooded man began to pace slowly in front of Roman as he tutted, shaking his head. His hood slipped back again, and Roman could make out a second eye, once more noting a yellow flicker of light. He'd never seen such a color reflected in another's eyes. Maybe he was imagining it.

"Do relax. All will be answered in time," the other retorted. Roman opened his mouth again to speak but the man continued on before he could comment. "I am called Dolos, and I know that which is your deepest longing."

"I long for nothing," Roman insisted sharply, his frustration growing. Anything he lacked, Thomas would supply him with and then some. He had everything he'd ever dreamed of, from a noble position to extraordinary friends, and he wasn't really driven by material things. What more could he want?

"Perhaps not for things that bear a physical manifestation, but mere trinkets will not satisfy your deepest needs. I can _see_ your darkest desires, highness," Dolos purred sinisterly, ceasing his pacing to stand facing Roman. He reached up slowly and pulled back his hood to finally reveal himself completely. Dread washed over Roman in waves of intensity as he tried to take in the sight before him.

Dolos' eyes didn't just reflect golden light; they _were_ yellow, and seemed to glow ominously as he stared on. Just looking at them, Roman swore that Dolos could peer right into his heart and soul. The worst part, though, were the scales littered on the left side of his face. Green and purple, they resembled that of a snake, and Roman felt the hair on his neck stand straight up. The more he thought about it, the more fitting it seemed. The way Dolos spoke and carried himself resembled the cunningness of a snake stalking its prey, though the thought did more to unnerve Roman than anything.

"I know what it is you really yearn for. _Respect_." The word was spat out in intensity, and Roman was unsure whether it was meant in enthusiasm or disgust. "And I can grant you that respect, highness. I alone can give you what you want."

Silence hung heavily between the two men, an unspoken question left in the air. Roman was torn, truly, and for a moment he floundered with what to do. The uneasiness he'd felt before had become a roaring suspicion, and he knew in the back of his mind that he should turn and go. Nothing good could come from this interaction, or from the man before him.

At the forefront of his mind, though curiosity had broken through.

What could Dolos do to give Roman the respect he so desperately craved? Did he have some sort of power to grant Roman such a thing, or perhaps he had a power intended for more of a sinister intent. The newly-appointed captain felt a stronger pull every time he glanced into the man's eyes before his hand hesitantly pulled away from his sword.

"How?"

"I can make you a king, highness."

The response was quick and effortless. The words themself were a shock to Roman, stunning him to the point of speechlessness. A king? Roman didn't have a drop of royal blood in his body, what kingdom would take him in as their king? Besides that, Roman had never wanted to be a king. In fact, he'd never even considered it, not truly. He dreamed of it in his youth but it was only a fantasy, nothing more. He just wanted acknowledgement for his accomplishments, and to be respected for his work.

Dolos, though, seemed to anticipate his worries, for he went on, "The only man who holds any real respect is a king. You will never receive true reverence until you sit upon your own throne, ruling your own kingdom. And I can make it happen."

Roman didn't have time to answer before he saw a flash of red, and then a rose was being held out to him. Where had it come from? Surely it would have been crushed in a pocket or satchel. Yet, it looked as if it was freshly plucked. In fact, it looked almost too perfect to exist at all. The petals were impossibly light and dewy, the flower seeming to have a perfect symmetry. And the color; Roman had never seen something so red. His sash even seemed to dull in comparison, though he felt a pang of guilt for thinking such a thought.

"Take this, highness, and think it over." Roman hesitantly reached out to take the rose, muttering a curse when a thorn pricked his finger. Dolos' smile seemed to grow impossibly wide, and he gave a smug, "I trust you will find me in time," before disappearing behind the trees he'd come from.

He was gone as quickly as he'd appeared, leaving Roman with the spoken invitation and the rose.

Roman took a moment to tuck the rose carefully into his jacket and think about the encounter he'd just had. As he prepared to ride once more, he took a look at his surroundings and noticed that it seemed as if the darkness left with the strange man. He recognized the path once again, and could hear the gentle chirp of birds in the trees, and decided it best to return to the palace quickly instead of stalling a moment more.

As he rode, though, a strangeness washed over him, and everything he'd been so sure of before was becoming muddled. He'd never wanted to rule, he only wanted to earn respect through forgiveness and effort, but those thoughts were becoming riddled with doubt. Every minute he rode, more worrisome thoughts began to trickle slowly into his mind seemingly out of nowhere.

_They don't respect you, they'll never respect you, you're a lowly miller's son, you must force them to respect you, you deserve to be respected, you deserve to rule, you deserve to be king, you deserve to be king, you deserve to be king..._

**. . .**

"Roman? Hello? Hey, knucklehead, I'm talking to you."

Roman blinked a few times as he was ripped out of his mind before he focused on the world around him. He noticed that he was almost outside his bedroom in a hallway, and Virgil was in front of him. An eyebrow was cocked and his arms were crossed over his chest, clearly showing his concern.

"You okay, Ro? You seem really out of it," Virgil inquired, poorly masked worry clear in his voice. Roman might have found it sweet if he wasn't so fuzzy from his thoughts.

"Yeah, just thinking," Roman answered hesitantly. It wasn't really a lie; Roman's mind had been racing since he left the forest. He was unsure now of all of his thoughts and feelings, and new ideas had been slowly pouring into his brain nonstop. "I'm just tired, I should probably get some rest," he added quickly before Virgil could protest. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Virgil any more than he already had.

"Yeah, I guess... What's that?" Virgil was staring at the rose poking out of Roman's coat, and Roman thought he noticed a brief flash of jealousy over his features before Virgil's face quickly turned into serious concern.

"Just a rose," Roman responded, looking down at it. It was just as stunning to look at as when he'd first received it, and it was surprising still pristine despite bustling around his jacket on the ride home. He felt an odd tug in the back of his mind but he forced it away.

"You should get rid of it," Virgil blurted out, taking Roman aback. "It... gives me a bad feeling. Anyways, I'll let you rest," he hurriedly added before ducking away quickly down the hall. Roman took a moment before proceeding to his room.

What did Virgil mean? It was just a rose, a gorgeous one at that. There was no chance that Roman would get rid of it. Perhaps Virgil's outburst was due to jealousy; who did he think had given Roman the rose? Perhaps Roman should have told him about his patrol, and Dolos, and his eerie promises, but it was far too late now. Perhaps later.

Roman eased himself onto his bed, pulling the rose out of his jacket. Again a thorn pieced his skin, but this time he didn't flinch. He simply stared on at the flower, trying to make sense of everything in his mind, everything he was feeling.

He clearly had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this chapter was somehow difficult to motivate myself to write, so i really hope that doesn't come through and ruin it.
> 
> anyways! i hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> hello, thanks for getting through the first chapter lmao. this is my first published fanfiction so hopefully it wasn't painful to read. i know, this is yet ANOTHER work based on the animatic but once i got this idea in my head, i just had to write it. anyways.


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